Balls of Power
by kenansense
Summary: Fullscale parody of HDM, featuring Incestuous!Lyra, Disco!Asriel, and Improper!Use of exclamation marks. [And that city in the Aurora! I think I saw a Nordstrom!]
1. Lying, the Bitch, & the Wardrobe

_Get back home, things are wrong  
Well not really, it was bad all along  
Before he left, adds up to a ball of power  
Thoughts at a thousand miles per hour  
Hello, ghetto, let your brain breathe,  
believe there's always more, ahhhhh!  
_-Outkast, Bombs over Baghdad

- - - -

**Balls of Power** Book One

**The 24-Karat-Gold-Inlaid Bling**

_The 24-Karat-Gold-Inlaid Bling_ forms the first part of a story in three volumes. The first volume is set in a universe like ours, but everyone in it forms bad movie stereotypes. The second volume is set in the universe we know, only in the ghetto. The third volume will take place in such eclectic locales as Venice Beach, Compton, Brooklyn, Detroit, and Newark.

- - - -

**Chapter One – Lying, the Bitch, and the Wardrobe**

"Lyra, you're not taking this seriously. Behave yourself," said Lyra's dæmon, Pantalaimon.

"Shut the hell up," snapped Lyra. "You're such a pussy. You wouldn't last two days in the hood."

"You realize that we're the same person, right?"

Lyra bitch-slapped her dæmon hard. "Listen, you furry piece of crap!" she shouted. "I'm in charge here! Me! You best shut up before I snap your little neck!"

"Um...am I interrupting something?" came a sudden voice from the door at the other end of the room. The Steward entered, his red setter dæmon trotting at his heels. "I mean...what are you doing in here, Lyra Belacqua? You're due for a good thrashing, you are! Just wait until I get my hands – "

He was interrupted by Lyra moving up to him seductively, swaying her hips. "You can get your hands on me any time you want," she whispered, her face inches from his, before pushing up against him and feeling him express his – feelings – for her – physically. Erm, I mean, you get what I'm saying? Any more and I'll have to post this on Adultfanfiction.

She gave him a teasing kiss on the lips before slipping a piece of paper with her room number on it into his pocket. "Knock twice, then twice again," she whispered, almost spitting the words in his face with a physical sense of power she found overwhelming, yet addictive. "If you don't tell anyone you found me here, I'll make it worth your while." Pan, meanwhile, was in his sexiest doggy form sniffing the butt of the Steward's dæmon. The older man nodded slowly, at which point Lyra sidled into the wardrobe, the Steward looking longingly after her.

The second the door was closed, Pan turned into a llama and spat in Lyra's face. "That was the most disgusting thing I've ever had to do," he said. "That dog was, like, fifty."

Lyra was still smiling, relishing the last traces of the adrenaline rush just subsiding. She had a profound skill with seduction, even though she was only – what, eleven, twelve? – years old. No man had ever been able to resist her when she turned her _charm_ on. Her immense narcissism, however, meant that she was never attracted to anyone other than herself.

"Why are we even hiding in here, anyway?" asked Pan. "We're gonna get caught."

Lyra, still smiling, grabbed her dæmon by the private parts and squeezed tightly, at the same time clamping a hand over his mouth to prevent him from giving her position away. "How many times do I need to ask you to shut up?" she asked sweetly, relinquishing her hold only when she felt his complete submission. She found things difficult with that little nagging voice in her head, and so she made as many attempts to silence it as she could.

The door opened again, but this time it was the Godfather who entered, accompanied by two flunkies. "One of you, behind the curtains," said the old man, his raven dæmon flapping her wings. "You, in the wardrobe!" Lyra mentally sighed before pulling out her butcher knife, which she of course carried with her at all times. She remained completely silent as the man pulled open the wardrobe door, hiding in the shadow on the opposite side of the closet. Once the strange man was inside and had pulled the door almost completely closed, Lyra, smiling, slid the knife carefully, gently, directly through the man's heart. She pulled it out again, ordering her dæmon to lick it clean, for blood made her queasy.

She moved the dead body aside and peered out the crack the strange man had left in the door. The other man had positioned himself behind the curtains, and Lyra saw him pocket a pistol before disappearing from her sight altogether. At this, a sudden revelation hit her: they were hit men, and their job was to kill her uncle, father, and cousin Lord Asriel IV.

"Now aren't you glad we came here?" Lyra asked Pantalaimon, a trill to her voice that would suggest to some that she was happy. But Pan knew better.

She was suddenly distracted as smooth jazz music began to penetrate the scene. Somehow a disco ball was flashing on the walls, and her uncle-father-cousin Lord Asriel, complete with furs, high-tops, and pimp cane, entered the room.

"Gr-oovay!" he crooned, although to the best of his knowledge there was no one else in the room.

The Steward entered again, a suspicious-looking stain on the front of his trousers.

"Sappnin'! Right on! How is you? It be supa fine t'see ya' again. 'S coo', bro," spoke Asriel, ambling towards the table. "I gots arrived too late t'eat. Man! ah' gots'ta wait here."

"Very well, Lord Asriel," spoke the Steward, shuffling uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "If you'll have a seat right there, the Godfather will be right with you."

"Coo'," spoke her many-times-over relative, sitting at a place where, Lyra saw, he was in perfect sniper range of the hit man still waiting behind the curtain. Once the Steward exited, Lyra burst from the wardrobe, throwing her knife across the room directly into the forehead of the hit man. He fell forward, taking most of the curtain with him.

Lord Asriel did a complicated series of flips and somehow managed to catch the curtains before they hit the ground. Quickly setting them back up again, he made a series of movements with his hands too fast for the human eye to follow. When he was done the curtain stood exactly as before, the man's body had disappeared, and a strong lemony clean scent had filled the majority of the room.

"Why you hangin' here, jive turkey?" he asked. "Answa' me. I gon' smack you up, bitch!"

"Ooh, you know we can't here, Ozzie," said Lyra, giggling and blushing furiously, running a hand down his chest.

Asriel pushed her away. "Get cho' ass back in that wardrobe, girl!" he cried. "They gon' notice somethin's up!"

Lyra did as she was told. My earlier statement can be revised: she _was_ attracted to one other person: Lord Asriel IV, aka Ozzie, making her family tree more screwed up than anyone could have imagined.

She pulled the wardrobe door exactly as far shut as it was before, leaving the slight crack so the Godfather would think his hit man was still in place. Just as she finished, the door opened yet again, and the Godfather himself entered.

"Welcome, Asriel," said the old man, a silky-smooth overtone outlining his words. "The family extend their heartfelt greetings."

Asriel nodded.

"Sappnin'. Dank ya' fo' yo' hospitality. Slap mah fro!" he stated enthusiastically, appearing for all the world like nothing had happened. Indeed, in his mind nothing had, for Lyra had forgotten to tell him about the plot to take his life.

Oops.

The Godfather attempted to slap his fro, but missed, for Lord Asriel IV had no fro.

"Please, tell me the reason for this unexpected visit," said the Godfather, his voice a mixture of every Italian-gangster accent ever manufactured in Hollywood.

"I gots'ta show ya' drough interpretive boogie," said Asriel. "Set me down some disco ball and play "Stayin' Alive" by de Bee Gees. I'm goin' t'boogie! Right on!"


	2. Barely Stayin' Alive

Lord Asriel began his dance, his hips swaying hypnotically in such a way that caused Lyra to half-climax right there. "Stayin' Alive" blared through the speakers (or something), and Ozzie struck a pose like something out of Saturday Night Fever (which Lyra had _obviously_ never seen, because this would be a blatant – anachronism? Anuniverseism?), two fingers pointed at an angle towards the ceiling, two pointed at the floor in Lyra's general direction.

He then performed a series of incredible feats. He began the dance with his feet shuffling back and forth in tune with his finger movements, out-in-out-in-out-in (Lyra was getting hornier by the second), but soon the feet seemed to be moving on their own accord, and Ozzie took his focus off his hands and solely toward his feet, and then they were moving faster, faster (oh!), and then Lord Asriel spread his legs out so he was almost touching the ground, placing one arm on top of the other like a genie which Lyra had _also_ never heard of...

"Oh, oh, oh, oh, stayin' alive, stayin' alive..."

Ozzie plopped to the floor in an Indian-style position, then he was back on his feet dancing, Indian-style, dancing...up, down, up, down, feet moving so fast that Lyra's eyes saw only a blur, so it appeared that his feet were in a million different places at once. The Godmother, The Father, The Daughter, The Second-Cousin-Twice-Removed, and the rest of the family had entered the room and were watching in silent awe.

A random, afro-adorned female servant had joined Ozzie on the dance floor, and the pair were performing the Indian-style move together, except on each _up_-motion they clasped each other's arms and fell back to the ground. The Family were all stamping their feet in rhythm with the beat; the Bee Gees had never expected to be the soundtrack to such a beautiful moment.

But of course, Lyra _didn't know_ who the Bee Gees were.

"Whether you're a brother or whether you're a mother, you're stayin' alive, stayin' alive. Feel the city breakin' and everybody shakin', and we're stayin' alive, stayin' alive. Oh, oh, oh, oh, stayin' aliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii—"

The entire family were dancing, the Godfather and Godmother with the crooks of their elbows locked, passing in turn under the arms of the Steward and Stewardess, who were frottaging kneeling on the floor in between choruses, who were being looked upon with disgust by the Daughter, who was shaking her butt so low to the ground that the ants were setting off air-raid sirens, who was being looked upon with sexual arousal by the Father, who had his own set of problems that we won't discuss here.

"Life going nowhere, somebody help me, help me get theeeyre..."

The Family and Ozzie had started a sort of conveyor belt on the dance floor, one of them going around or under or above another and the person behind them then preparing to do the same. As the song ended, the conveyor belt sped up faster and faster until the last note sounded and all of them fell to their knees, raising their arms in a V-shape towards Lyra (even though they _didn't know she was there_). Ozzie stayed standing in the middle, not a hair on his head even slightly out of place despite the assortment of physically impossible moves he had just completed. Lyra thought she saw two Girl Scouts (which she—oh, forget it) fighting behind her – they were breaking chairs over each others' heads and everything! But when she blinked, she realized the author had just wanted to insert an _Airplane!_ reference. Erm, I mean, that she had hallucinated.

Lyra had an orgasm.

The Family, enervated, got slowly to their respective feet, staring at Lord Asriel with unwilling acceptance. "We better give him the funding," they all said at once, in an incredibly cheesy effect.

"Dank ya' real much," responded Lord Asriel II. "Lop some boogie."

"Ugh, that head was _freaky_," said the Step-Grandmother.

"But that bit about the panserbjorne..._so_ true," said the Mother-in-Law. "And Dust indeed produces such an effect with presented with a pulvisensitive emulsion."

"And that city in the Aurora!" cried the Godmother, clasping her hands together in delight. "I think I saw a Nordstrom!"

Somewhere amidst this dialogue (which is necessary to provide transition), Lyra fell asleep, only to awaken what seemed like minutes later when Ozzie's head peeped through the crack.

"Were ya' spoonin' de co'pse?" he spoke, laughter in his voice, and Lyra hurriedly extricated herself from the lifeless arms.

"Ozzie, you were _amazing_," Lyra said, exiting the closet and shutting the door as Pantalaimon tried to climb out as well. She jumped on him, wrapping her legs around his body. "I got off just _watching_ you."

They began to kiss hungrily as the darkening of the screen (**A/N**: What screen? What?) let the viewers (er, readers) know that it was time for another NC-17 scene.

- - - -

Wait, I forgot to give Lord Asriel a dæmon. Well, he has one.

- - - -

The Godfather and the Father were best friends, had killed many people together, and it was their habit, after a difficult episode, to go hit up an Italian restaurant, claim a booth, and drink enough Merlot to numb the pain.

"I can't believe they were able to eliminate our flunkies," said the Godfather, eating some stereotypical Italian dish such as fettuccini or another pasta with lots of c's in it.

"I'm really going to miss Flunky #1," agreed the Father sadly. "Flunky #2, however, had this lazy eye that annoyed the hell out of me."

"So...uh...are we gonna 'hit' anyone tonight, boss?" asked the Father.

"Today is a very solemn occasion," said the Godfather in that gangster voice that you may find in, well, _The Godfather_. "Let us spend the rest of this dinner in quiet contemplation of what we have lost. Oh, and Lyra is going to fall in love with a boy named Will, stop the Dust from flowing out of the worlds, unite Lord Asriel and Mrs. Coulter in their love for her, kill God, and go to St. Sophia's School for Young Girls."

The Father looked at him strangely.

"But only if we don't tell her," said the Godfather. Otherwise, we will all turn into pseudosentient robots without the slightest bit of self-awareness."

"Um, Godfather? She's sitting right there," said the Father, pointing to the seat next to the Godfather, where Lyra and Pan were indeed staring intently at the kingpin.

"Oh, right. I invited her here on a date with me," said the Godfather.

"And he got me these $300,000 earrings!" added Lyra, beaming.

"Well, I guess that's all the more reason to live it up while we can," said the Father, downing another $300 bottle of Merlot.


End file.
